


Sirius/Remus LDWS Collection

by kittysorceress



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Crack, Drabble Collection, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-20
Updated: 2011-11-20
Packaged: 2017-10-26 07:50:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 1,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/280565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittysorceress/pseuds/kittysorceress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stories of love and loss and watermelons and peacocks and teenage boys. A collection of works from the Moony & Padfoot Last Drabble Writer Standing, 2010. Sadly, I was not last writer standing... although I came in a close second!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cock of the Walk

**Author's Note:**

> Week One Prompts: spells gone awry, resplendence

It had to be something about the deep blue robes, mused Sirius, that was making his person so very irresistible to Remus. Not that he wasn’t usually irresistible. But yes. The snog in the stairwell on the way down to the common room was especially nice. And those eyes promised him so many things that just made him wish this stupid party was over before it had even begun. Even if it was Evans’ birthday. Even, even if it was so bloody important to Prongs. Even, even, even if... 

Remus was sitting on the other side of the room, chatting to some girl and biting his lip in that  _I’m listening intently_  way and it was very attractive and Sirius was starting to think there had been too much firewhiskey. But too much firewhiskey is the perfect excuse for party tricks. 

In a single bound, he was upon the table, arms spread in a theatrical gesture. He flashed a winning smile and winked a winning eye as the fellow Gryffindors cheered on the trouble-maker. 

“I’ve something new for you all,” Sirius raised his wand and touched it gently to his head and as he did so, he had a sudden realisation that he had not thought this through. “ _Pavone_!” 

“He was always cock of the walk,” grinned James. 

“Resplendant,” agreed Lily. 

“In verdure clad,” quoth Peter. 

“Er... not quite, Peter,” reprimanded Remus. 

Peacock Sirius let out a woeful “Maw!”


	2. Honour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stories of love and loss and watermelons and peacocks and teenage boys. A collection of works from the Moony & Padfoot Last Drabble Writer Standing, 2010. Sadly, I was not last writer standing... although I came in a close second!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Week Two Prompts: hurt/comfort, pride, exactly 200 words

As Remus pulled away he could taste the salt of Sirius’ blood on his lips. Sirius’ own lips bore a thick band of crimson that smeared from the centre of his bottom lip to the right corner and down his chin.

His wand lost in the fray, Remus dabbed at the damage carefully with his shirt cuff. “We should get you some ice for that... or if you want to pass me your wand...”

Sirius moved away from him a little, too proud to be fussed over like this, and curled a bit closer into the cool stone of the stairwell. “It’s just a split lip.” He kept his gaze off of his friend, instead staring at the scuffed toes of his shoes. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve had worse; at least that was only words. I’ve never needed to fight back for my honour.” It wasn’t a bitter tone that Remus used. Still looking away, Sirius extended a hand and clasped Remus’ own in it.

“How do you do this?” He sounded frightened. Remus slid closer on the step and rested his head on Sirius’ shoulder.

“What, be different?” He chuckled and wrapped his arms around Sirius’ waist. “Embrace it.”


	3. Wallis the Seedless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stories of love and loss and watermelons and peacocks and teenage boys. A collection of works from the Moony & Padfoot Last Drabble Writer Standing, 2010. Sadly, I was not last writer standing... although I came in a close second!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Week Three Prompts: holiday, watermelon

A watermelon sat lonely on the sand between the two boys. The fruit had a half-empty bottle inverted in its top.

“Is it ready yet?”

“No.”

There was a long pause.

“How lo–”

“I told you, it takes a week for the vodka to seep in properly. You’ll have to wait. Why can’t you just drink something else with James and Peter? Look at them, building that haphazard sandcastle. Why don’t you go and smash it up?” Remus reclined onto the sand, a protective hand on the watermelon, and tipped his hat over his face. “I’m going to enjoy the sun while it lasts.”

It was easy to fall asleep to the sounds of sandcastle destruction, of screaming teenage boys and the lapping of the waves against the shore. And, really, he shouldn’t have been surprised to wake up minus one watermelon.

“And the almighty Wallis ruled his watery kingdom with a seedless heart and a juicy fist. He was a just king to his Shell Folk who ploughed the barren sandy fields and he provided them with the salt they required.”

Remus smiled under the red light that filtered through his hat as he listened to James pompously extolling the virtues of the missing vodka watermelon, then to Peter and the sea destroying the watermelon’s sand city, then to Sirius bemoaning and bewailing the fate of the Shell Folk.

He lazed in that half-sleeping, half-conscious state that defined the summer beach holiday, until a dripping Sirius body laid itself next to his own and nuzzled its face into his shoulder, pressing a wet kiss to his neck.

“Did you vanquish the evil, devil sea?” Remus chuckled, his voice a little muffled by his hat.

“Yep.”

There was a long pause.

“Is it ready now?”


	4. in vento et rapida scribere oportet aqua

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stories of love and loss and watermelons and peacocks and teenage boys. A collection of works from the Moony & Padfoot Last Drabble Writer Standing, 2010. Sadly, I was not last writer standing... although I came in a close second!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Week Four Prompts: erotica, bluffing

You awake to the press of lips against your own. These lips are soft and inviting, they are coaxing and then insistent. You don’t dare to open your eyes but have no qualms about kissing back with the same gentle passion afforded to you. You can smell his particular scent and, feeling the press of the length of his body against yours, its wiry shape and graceful movement, there is no doubt who is kissing you.

So you won’t open your eyes, as this is probably still a dream.

You didn’t quite notice at first, feeling only him and oh yes, but he is draped against you in such a way that makes every minute movement – of which there are increasingly more – set off a little jolt in your heart that runs its way down to the tips of your fingers and the bottom of your feet. You lift your tingling fingers from your sides and dare not place them anywhere but on the waist they first make contact with.

He lets out a moan and bites at your lower lip and runs a hand through your hair and you moan and this is exactly the right thing to do in this moment.

But then there is laughter from beside the bed and he pulls away. Despite all your better judgement, your eyes snap open to see Sirius straddling your lap and grinning, James and Peter pyjama-clad and camera wielding.

You have never felt so betrayed, but this is not the time for that. This is the time for teenage boys being teenage boys and calling bluffs and throwing pillows and...

You think you see something apologetic in Sirius’ eye over breakfast. Your heart leaps and you don’t know whether you want this dream to start or to end.


	5. Witching Hour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stories of love and loss and watermelons and peacocks and teenage boys. A collection of works from the Moony & Padfoot Last Drabble Writer Standing, 2010. Sadly, I was not last writer standing... although I came in a close second!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Week Five Prompts: another character's POV, awe

I wake up for the sixth night in a row to the sound of Sirius retching in the bathroom at the end of the hall. The next noise that I hear is the sticky footsteps of bare feet on linoleum traipsing from Remus’ bedroom. I am awed by his dedication to his friend.

James stirs next to me and I snuggle a little closer. Best he doesn’t wake up; his coping mechanism seems to be anger.

Sirius isn’t coping at all. I see it in his apologetic eyes as he sips at a cup of tea and leaves his toast untouched, in his smile that seems a little too forced, his hands which shake and his leg that jitters.

They won’t tell us what they saw. Dumbledore has told us not to pry and I don’t think we’d dare to, not even Peter with his compulsive need to know the who, what, where, when and how of everyone and everything.

A flush of the toilet, the creak of the pipes as the cold water makes its way to the taps. I think I can hear sobbing, I screw my eyes shut and try to ignore this feeling of helplessness that washes over me. I see in my minds’ eye the sight from Tuesday evening, Remus wiping Sirius’ face with a warm flannel and promising hope and safety and care.

A little thrill touches at my heart when I hear just one bedroom door being closed and the distinct sound of two bodies weighing down the springs of Remus’ mattress. The sobbing is softer now, hushed and cradled by someone who is offering all the love and devotion that anyone might ever need.

We’re none of us even twenty years old yet. No one told us war would hurt like this.


	6. Take Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stories of love and loss and watermelons and peacocks and teenage boys. A collection of works from the Moony & Padfoot Last Drabble Writer Standing, 2010. Sadly, I was not last writer standing... although I came in a close second!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Week Six Prompts: first time, frustrated

It was strikingly obvious to Remus, as he woke up to the fading light of the late afternoon still dressed in his clothes from the night before, that going Muggle “clubbing” with the others did not end how he had hoped. In fact, he was not entirely sure how it had ended at all.

He dragged himself with no little effort from the sofa, frustrated at the heaviness of his limbs and the foggy feeling of being ever-so-mildly hung-over. As he trudged the short distance to the kitchen, he noticed a female undergarment hanging from James’ bedroom doorknob. Ah, Lily must have stayed.

On automatic, Remus taps the kettle on the stove with his wand and busies himself with tea bags shoved in a pot. Tea leaves have gone missing. Not bothered at the moment. Water into the pot, let it sit. Sugar into a chipped mug, pour tea in, and add milk. Bliss.

“I’m sorry about last night.”

Remus jolts and manages to slop half his tea on the floor. Sirius just chuckles coolly, swipes a tea towel from the bench and wipes the mess. Remus’ brain is in overdrive. Last night? Sorry? His mouth does not work.

Sirius pulls the tea mug from Remus’ hands and Remus feels completely bare. Hands rest on the bench, either side of his hips. He is trapped.

And suddenly it floods back to him. The lights and the music, the touch of Sirius’ hands on his waist, the throb of the music could have matched this throb now in his head. Being left on the sofa, wanting more.

“This is what I should have done instead.”

Any rationality is quickly replaced with brilliant nothingness, brought on by soft lips.

It’s completely new.


	7. Today, They Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stories of love and loss and watermelons and peacocks and teenage boys. A collection of works from the Moony & Padfoot Last Drabble Writer Standing, 2010. Sadly, I was not last writer standing... although I came in a close second!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grand Finale Prompts: fluff, glasses

What began as a struggle to regain a stolen book, a struggle with tickling and limbs flailing, ended with a kiss. They settled, Remus comfortable curled against Sirius’ chest.

This was the thirty-fifth embrace they had shared under this tree.

“Tomorrow, when we’re grown men...” Sirius started, passing his hand gently through Remus’ hair.   
“Tomorrow, when we graduate,” Remus corrected.   
“Will you still love me?”   
“Of course.” A kiss. “And when I’m grumpy and tell you to wash your three-day-old dishes in the sink, will you still love me?”   
“Undoubtedly.” Another kiss. “When I’m old and I have to wear stupid James-Potter-glasses to even see the morning crossword, just so I can correct your answers, will you still love me?”   
“Idiot. Yes.” Laughter followed.

They paused a little and a lingering, gentle kiss came next. They parted slowly and looked out over the grounds, as if kings surveying their kingdoms.

Tomorrow they will leave this lake, that castle, those trees that form the forest, taking the long and winding path to Hogsmeade and to the real world for the final time. And while their school days will be finished, this will be the start of something much bigger.

Today there is nothing else but Remus and Sirius, Sirius and Remus. Today is cuddling in a shared four-poster before the others wake up, meaningful glances across the breakfast table, escaping the knowing look from Lily, the teasing from James, the hero-worship from Peter. Today is the warm sun bringing out the gold in Remus’ hair, the sparkle in Sirius’ eye.

They laugh and reminisce. This is the end of school, the end of sneaking out, the end of the Marauders as they have been known. Tomorrow, they’ll do it all on their own.

Today, they love.


End file.
